


Positive Tension

by amathela



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M, Makeouts, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/pseuds/amathela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"We're going to a party at Jackson's," Scott says. He thinks he's mastered saying it casually by now, but yeah, Stiles is right. It's weird.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Positive Tension

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadySilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/gifts).



> Spoilers up to episode _2:12 - Master Plan_.

"One more time," Stiles says. "We're going to a party at Jackson's."

"We're going to a party at Jackson's," Scott says. He thinks he's mastered saying it casually by now, but yeah, Stiles is right. It's weird.

"Okay," Stiles says. "So now for the part I really don't understand. _Why_ are we going to a party at Jackson's?"

"Jackson's not that bad," Scott says, but yeah, he doesn't need to see Stiles' reaction to know he still screwed up his face a little while saying it. Okay, so he's still kind of a huge jerk. "Come on. You helped save his life."

"Don't remind me," Stiles says. "And that doesn't mean I like the guy."

"Yeah, well, neither do I," Scott says. "But he's -"

"What?" Stiles asks. "Part of your pack now?"

"He's not part of my pack," Scott says. "I don't have a pack. It's just - he's been through a lot."

"Yeah," Stiles says, "I heard." With one hand still on the wheel, he picks up the crumpled bit of paper sitting between them and waves it in Scott's face. Scott can't read it, but he knows what it says, and yeah, its a bit ... dramatic.

"Who holds a back from the dead party?" Stiles asks, finally letting the flier drop. "For that matter, who has fliers printed out for a high school party?"

"Jackson," Scott says.

"Exactly," Stiles says. "Jackson. So tell me again why we're going?"

"Um," Scott says. "Because we're already here?" At Stiles' sigh as he turns off the Jeep, he adds, "I bet it won't even be that bad. Just think of it like a victory party for the team."

"We already had one of those," Stiles says. "It was called 'let's play Mario Kart in Stiles' bedroom.'"

"Yeah," Scott says. "That was really fun."

"Exactly. So why don't we just go home and do that again?" And then, "Wait, is this an Allison thing?"

"No, it's not an Allison thing. She's not even going to be here." He still hasn't spoken to her, but he might have overheard Lydia saying something. Not that he was listening in, or anything. But speaking of which -

"But I bet Lydia will."

And they're heading inside.

Where, okay, it might be a little bit bigger than just a victory party for the team. They're at Jackson's, after all, and despite everything that's gone down over the past few months, he's still a popular guy. The entire team is there, though, huddled in the same groups Scott's used to seeing in the locker room, so much that he almost expects Coach Finstock to suddenly appear around the corner.

He doesn't, though. So that's good.

"Okay," Stiles says. "If we're going to be here, I'm going to need a drink. You want one?"

"Yeah," Scott says. "Sure."

He doesn't know where Stiles disappears to, but ten minutes later Scott's still alone and drinking something vaguely brownish that somebody handed him. Which, yeah, he knows maybe isn't the best idea, he's seen all the PSAs and heard his mom's lecture about a dozen times, but it's been kind of a rough week. Besides, it's one drink.

"Careful with that," someone says behind him, and Scott turns around to see Danny. "I think Greenberg mixed the drinks. I'm pretty sure they're spiked."

No kidding. Scott can smell it; probably could even without enhanced senses. That's kind of the point, though.

"Thanks," he says. And then relaxes a bit, because it's nice to be around someone familiar, even if Stiles has disappeared. There's a part of him that thinks he should probably be more comfortable here, around the guys from the team, especially since he is - or was; he's not quite sure where he stands right now, not that it matters - team captain. But, well. This year hasn't exactly been the most normal. "So, I guess we won."

"Yeah," Danny says, leaning back beside him. "I guess so."

There's something in his expression, though, and Scott can't help himself. "You guess?"

"Yeah," Danny says, and his forehead creases, like he's debating what to say next. "Did this season seem kind of ... odd to you?"

Scott wants to laugh, and barely manages not to. Yeah, you could say that.

"Odd?" he asks, trying for casual. He's not quite sure he manages it.

"Yeah, just a bit ... you know what, never mind."

"No," Scott says, because Danny's starting to pull away, like he's embarrassed. "I mean, yeah, it was a little strange. Who ever thought I'd be captain of the lacrosse team, right?"

Beside him, he can feel Danny relax again. "That was definitely a surprise," Danny says. And then, quickly, "But a good one."

"Yeah?" Scott asks. "Maybe somebody should have told Jackson that."

And maybe he shouldn't have brought up Jackson, because he's really not sure that's been explained in a way that anybody really believes yet, because this whole party is about how he somehow miraculously came back from the dead, and the last thing Scott wants to do is start raising more questions.

But Danny just says, "I'm pretty sure Jackson's over it."

Scott glances at him, and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay," Danny says. "Nearly over it. He'll get there."

"Yeah," Scott says. "Well, next season isn't for a while, anyway. Who knows what could happen before then?"

"Yeah," Danny says, looking thoughtful, and great, Scott's done it again. "Who knows?"

Scott finishes the rest of his drink; he can already feel it going to his head. "Hey," he says. "Have you seen Stiles around anywhere? I haven't seen him since we got here."

"You mean the guy who won us the championship game?" Danny asks. "Yeah, I think I've seen him."

"So where -" And maybe he just wasn't concentrating before, but Scott can hear it now, a faint chant of _Stiles_ coming from his right, barely audible over the moderate hum of the rest of the party.

"Getting drunk," Danny says. "Or rather, the guys are getting him drunk. He's not driving, is he?"

Not any more, Scott supposes. Not that he's exactly clear-headed right now, either; he guesses they'll be sticking around here a little longer.

"Yeah," he says. "I mean, no."

But Danny's frowning at him, leaning forward. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm -"

Really, really not. His head is spinning, blood pounding in time to the music, his senses spiking as bits of conversation fade in and out of hearing. What the hell was in that drink, anyway?

He isn't aware that he said that last bit out loud until Danny smiles, still somehow managing to look concerned. "Like I said, spiked. Greenberg got some pills that I guess he felt like sharing. I tried to warn you."

Yeah, he did. Too bad Scott didn't exactly listen. But he should still be okay, right? Faster metabolism and all that, so he should be fine, he should barely even feel it.

Except that's so not what's happening. For a moment, it's like everything speeds up around him. His senses sharpen; he can see the minutely frayed edge of Danny's collar, feel where the cool glass underneath his fingertips is slightly uneven, hear the faint scrape of fabric as Danny shifts slightly closer. He drops the glass, grips the edge of the bench; his fingers dig into the wood, leaving grooves where he touches.

"Hey," Danny says. He moves closer still, his hand low on Scott's back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He's okay. He's going to be okay. He's afraid to look up, not sure what colour his eyes are going to be. Danny's hand is warm on his back, heat burning through the fabric. He smells really good.

He takes a deep breath. He can feel Danny pulling him up, walking him across the floor, into some empty room. It's cooler here, quieter, and Scott wills his thoughts back together, tries to unscramble them. The rush of drunkenness fades a little, leaving his senses sharp, nerves on edge.

"I'm okay," he says. "Really." He looks up, tries to smile.

"Are you sure?" Danny asks. "Because your eyes -"

Oh, crap. Danny's looking at him, carefully now, and Scott tries to think. Between the pressure and the sensory overload and Danny's expression, it isn't easy, and in a moment of panic, he reacts on instinct, instead. He moves forward, his hand on Danny's arm, leans in, and -

"Wait," Danny says. After a few confusing, but pretty great, seconds. "What was that for?"

"Um," Scott says. "I kissed you?"

"Yeah," Danny says, smirking. "I noticed that part."

Which, yeah. Scott likes that smirk.

"I meant, why?"

"Because I like you?" The thing is, Scott's not even sure that was true a few minutes ago (although, he's certainly not sure it wasn't true, either). But it's definitely true now.

"Since when?"

"Since ..." Scott hesitates. "Why does it matter?"

"I just didn't know you were into guys."

"Yeah, well, neither did I," Scott says. 

Maybe. Probably. And then, because he knows now, he kisses Danny again. His already heightened senses are petty much in overdrive now, telling him exactly how much Danny shifts against him, every time his breath catches, the second his heart begins to speed up. Danny presses in harder, his fingers brushing Scott's back underneath his t-shirt, and Scott grips Danny's arms, hard, feeling that rush of blood he gets around a full moon.

"Ow!" Danny says, pulling back, and Scott resists the temptation to pull him back in again. Barely. "Did you just bite me?"

"Why would I -"

Oh, double crap. Scott feels around for a second to make sure, and yeah, his teeth are definitely ... pointier than usual. Damn it. He was pretty sure he had that under control.

"Um," he says. "Sorry?"

"It's okay," Danny says. And then, with a look in his eyes that Scott _definitely_ likes, "I don't mind. Just maybe not so hard, okay?"

"Okay," Scott says. He can do that.

(A lot, as it turns out.)

-

Scott has no idea how much time he and Danny spent making out, but by the time they finally leave the room, the party's pretty much over.

"Wow," he says. "I guess we kind of missed the party."

"Disappointed?" Danny asks.

"Not at all," Scott says, grinning at him. "You?"

"I'm not ..."

Danny trails off, and Scott follows his gaze over to the other side of the room. Stiles is sitting, half slumped in the corner, an empty box propped upside down on his head.

"Stiles," he says, making his way over there, Danny half a step behind. Stiles blinks up at him, groggy.

"Scott," he says. "They made me king."

Right. The box. Or crown, he supposes.

"I can see that," he says. "Come on, let's get you home."

"Wait," Stiles says, as Scott gets an arm under him to help him out. "Did you two -"

Wow, that's uncanny.

"What?" Scott asks, but he can't help the smile that creeps onto his face. "How did you know?"

"I'm your best friend," Stiles says. "Plus, Danny has a major hickey."

Right. That. Well, at least he's not supposed to be keeping this one a secret. Danny reaches a hand up to his neck, and Scott catches it in his, briefly squeezing his fingers.

"Hey," he says. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," Danny says. "I mean, if you want, there's a party at Greenberg's on Saturday."

"Yeah," Scott says. "Definitely." If it's going to be anything like this one, he wouldn't miss it.

And then, steadying Stiles against the wall so he doesn't fall over, Scott leans over and kisses Danny. Just quickly, but the way Danny smiles at him afterwards, it was totally worth it.

-

"So," Stiles says once they're outside, handing Scott his keys. "You and Danny."

"Yeah," Scott says, shrugging. "I guess."

"That's new. Is that new?"

"It's pretty new," Scott says.

Stiles looks sideways at him. "But good?"

"Yeah," he says. "Really good."

"Good," Stiles says. "I guess I'm just not his type."

"Stiles."

"He probably likes them a little hairier."

"Stiles."

"Bitier."

"Come on," Scott says, but he grins at the memory. "We need to get you home, anyway."

"Fine," Stiles says, managing - barely - to climb into the jeep by himself. "But tomorrow, I want details."

"Yeah," Scott says, looking him up and down. He's still wearing that stupid box. "Me, too."


End file.
